Broken
by ipsa dixit
Summary: RATED M FOR SELF HARM/DEPRESSION/CURSING/Luna's voice sounds very far away. Draco can feel someone tugging at his bleeding arm and pulling up his sleeve, to see everything, but he has stopped caring, too lost in his own thoughts. She's crying too./for TGS


**_WARNINGS_! For self harm, depression, cursing. Please take care of yourself. Don't get triggered. thanks**

 **For The Golden Snitch Forum's 'Tiggerific Times!', using the prompt of 1996-1997, putting me at a total of 45 points for Horned Serpent, Ilvermorny**

 **868 by Google docs**

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Everything is bloody. He shouldn't have worn white today. He shouldn't wear white at all, he _knows_ that.

 _Idiot_. He can't even get the fucking color of his shirt right.

Oh, add that to the list.

Add that he's a idiot to the ever-growing list of reasons Draco hates himself and why he's standing in this very bathroom right now, everything covered in blood.

Idiot.

Idiot.

Idiot.

Each time he thinks that he's an idiot, Draco puts another mark on his body.

He deserves it.

The marks are the reason that everything's bloody.

He used to make them with a Muggle pen he owns. He doesn't even know why he owns a Muggle pen; he _hates_ them, but that's besides the point. He started to mark every time he hated himself. Why? He didn't really know. Maybe to get it out, but it just didn't work. He still is in pain about _everything_ so he replaced the pen with a blade.

It numbs the pain, even if just for a little bit.

Draco has stopped wearing short sleeves, very self conscious of people staring at his wrist. Yes, he knows that his arms are covered in scars. _He put them there_. He has stopped wearing white, too, because white is too easy to see through.

So most of the time Draco looks like a cold emo.

Except today, because Draco was distracted in the morning and he was late for class already, so he just pulled on the closest shirt.

The closest shirt happened to be white, which was a mistake.

He first noticed that his scars were showing in the last class of the day, potions. He could feel Snape's eyes glaring into them.

He raised his _right_ hand and asked to go to the bathroom, where he's standing right now, a blade in the same right hand that he raised to ask to leave. He got this blade from his Aunt Bellatrix; she assumes he uses it to cut other people with it. She's wrong.

Draco looks at his disgusting face in the mirror and, with another swipe of his blade, decides that it's his worst feature.

The door to the bathroom opens and Draco hastily hides his blade and pulls his shirt sleeve down. Right away, blood starts seeping through his shirt.

The bathroom door opening is quite a shock to him, because this is Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. No one wants to go in here. No one, except whoever walked in.

Draco walks closer to the door; it doesn't seem like whoever it is moved any closer. He then sees a girl standing there with silvery blonde hair and big blue eyes. He thinks she's maybe a fifth year. She looks like a type of nymph to Draco.

He always hated Greek mythology.

"What are you doing here?" Draco snaps at the girl. The girl blinks with her wide eyes before responding,

"I thought this was the girls bathroom?"

Draco curses under his breath.

"Well, yes, but— but—" Draco stutters, struggling for a response. He just wants her to leave. "Didn't you see the sign that said out of order?" he finally says. Please leave, please leave.

The girl waves a hand a rolls her blue eyes. Draco hates her eyes already.

"Well, everyone knows that it only says that because of Myrtle, but she's not that bad. In fact I'm visiting her right now."

"You're— you— you're _visiting_ her?" Why did this girl make Draco stutter so much?

"Yes, yes. Is your arm okay?" The girl points to Draco's shirt sleeve which is now red. Well, at least he's not wearing white anymore.

"I'm fine," he snaps, scowling. He shifts his arm so the blood isn't visible. "Who're you anyway?" Draco asks the girl, looking her straight in the eyes.

"Luna Lovegood," she answers, staring right on through.

Draco makes a noise that's a cross between a grunt and a growl. He shifts his weight, feeling awkward.

"Are you sure your arm's okay?" Luna asks again.

Draco looks up the ceiling, not wanting to answer.

No, nothing was okay. Draco wanted to die. That was the straight out truth: Draco wants to die.

Unfortunately, Draco has to kill someone else instead, and he's fairly certain that that person doesn't want to die.

He blinks tears out of his eyes.

 _No, not now_ , he thinks. He can feel a breakdown coming on and really doesn't want to have one now, not here, in front of this random fifth year.

"Draco, right?" the girl says kindly. "Do you want help with anything?"

He hasn't heard genuine kindness in so long. He doesn't deserve it. Doesn't Luna realize what he is?

He can feel himself breaking.

"Draco?" Tears are coming, before he can stop them. "Draco, can I see your arm?"

Luna's voice sounds very far away. Draco can feel someone tugging at his bleeding arm and pulling up his sleeve, to see everything, but he has stopped caring, too lost in his own thoughts.

There's still tears coming down on his face.

Someone— Draco isn't sure who anymore— pulls him into a very tight hug and whispers in his ear,

"Please. Please don't."

She's crying, too.


End file.
